Amnesia - A USUK Fanfic
by TheAnimeAmigos
Summary: Amnesia fic. What happens when Alfred and Arthur get caught up in a ship wreck and wake up in different places? Here's the thing though, neither can remember who the other is. How will they and the other countries handle it when their relationship takes a romantic turn but then memories start surfacing themselves? Rated T but could possibly bump up to M. Likely a side of Franada.
1. Chapter 1

**Lu here and back from Spain! Writing a fanfic...that's not about Spain... either way, I know this is a long A/N and you can skip it if you want but I've always found that I love usuk AUs where England hasn't raised America (usually cardverse, human and pirate AUs, ect) but I do wonder if it would work out if they had their pasts together as bothers taken away for a brief period and have it as if they were meeting for the first time, but then have them thrown back into reality. Sorry for the long A/N but I just thought I'd share my thoughts. Enjoy if you will~**

Amnesia – a USUK fanfiction

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Alfred stirred at the sound of the heart machine. Where was he? The hospital? What? Why? Did he finally get abducted by aliens? Was he in their spaceship? Are they going to dissect and perform experiments on hi-

Wait...

There was water!

At this, he awoke...and he wish he didn't because he had the biggest fucking migraine ever!

Lying back down and shielding his eyes from the bright light of the hospital room, he vaguely remembered a storm and falling off the side of a ship...

Wait. What?

"Ughhh..." He groaned and he buried his face in the clean, white pillows. His head hurt too much for this. After about five minutes he decided to open his eyes and brave the blinding light before finding out what happened - but the zigzags restricting his vision were too much.

Screw this, he was going back to sleep.

Just as he closed his eyes, he heard the door open and a timid voice speak out. "America?"

He groaned again, "Dude, I told you not to call me that when we're not in meetings – it makes us look like nerds."

Matthew, or Canada, frowned. Why was that the first thing he said to him when he'd just almost drowned? He was only here because he was Alfred's emergency contact. Three presses from the American's mobile's power button and he received a text saying he was in trouble. At first he thought he might have pressed it by mistake, but then he checked the location.

The middle of the Atlantic ocean.

It took his rescue team 3 days to find him – floating in a lifeboat, unconscious and sunburnt just off the coast of New York.

"Ah, okay Alfr-"

He was interrupted by yet another groan, this time of pain. Alfred then spoke in a strained voice, "Dude, could you ask the nurse for some painkillers? My head hurts like a bitch."

Matthew grumbled but nodded before leaving the room. Alfred sighed and cradled his head in his hands, what happened to him?

...

Arthur awoke upon a sandy beach, dehydrated and under the burning sun. It was one of those days. Did his ship sink? He assumed it did since he was covered in sand and seaweed. He wondered what happened, he couldn't recall much but a storm and a sense of dread. He hated being a pirate sometimes.

"Blasted ocean," He half muttered, half spat out before he registered the feeling of being poked in the face with a stick.

"Angleterre~ Angleterre~ did you miss me that much you faked your own shipwreck?~" Francis?! Arthur bolted up and lunged for the Frenchman's throat, strangling him as if he'd just murdered his family.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing here and why am I washed up on the beach?!" He tightened his grip with pure hatred glinting in his eyes, "explain yourself, you stupid frog!"

Now panicking, Francis managed to pry the former pirate's hands away from his neck whilst trying to choke out an explanation, Arthur was scary right now. He'd overheard him and Alfred discussing teaching Alfred how to sail the old fashioned way after he mocked his privateering past. But he didn't expect it to end like this.

He decided to try the friendly approach. "Mon ami, I did nothing! I was merely wandering along my own coastline when I stumbled upon you washed up on my beach! What happened to your pirate cruise with Alfred?"

Trying but failing, Arthur couldn't manage to wrap his hands around the frog's neck in his weakened state but still he persisted to try. "Bollocks! Don't try and mess with me, I don't know an Alfred! You just want to steal my treasure!"

Confused but now concerned, Francis tried to reason. "What do you mean, Angleterre?! You raised Amérique!" He was met with a confused stare. "The child you dragged up with your awful tastes! America!"

Francis began choking again, Arthur was starting to regain his strength and he strangled him in annoyance. "Have you lost the plot, you twat? I raised nobody. Who is this America?"

Between chokes, Francis managed to speak. "Mon ami, I don't understand why you are trying to kill me! Our privateering days are over, I just heard you muttering about them in your state of rest so I decided to wake you! I speak the truth, we are in the year 2017! Just look at what we're wearing!"

For some reason, Arthur did as he was told – indeed they were in modern clothing. He released his hold on Francis and sat back, deeply confused. "What the bloody hell happened?"

 **Thank you for reading and let me know if I should continue.**


	2. Chapter 2

After a long nap induced by some seriously strong painkillers, Alfred was almost back to his regular self, only quite sunburnt and rather confused.

"Wait, so you're telling me I was drifting for three whole days in the middle of the Pacific ocean?!"

Matthew sighed, "the Atlantic ocean, Alfred."

"Right, right! The ocean is the ocean, but why was I there?!" Alfred exclaimed, further irritating Matthew.

Matthew merely looked at him expectantly, "You tell me, you disappear for a week straight and then I receive an emergency message from you. Three days later you show up in a lifeboat, unconscious, near New York."

For a moment, Alfred was just confused. Then his expression evolved into one of pure panic. "Wait, where the heck is my cell?!" He lept up and frantically began searching the hospital room for his missing mobile.

Matthew gave another esperated sigh before proceeding to explain to Alfred that his cellphone was water damaged and he'd have to get it fixed – Alfred seemed traumatised at this.

It took a lot of reassuring that Alfred's phone would be okay and that it wasn't the end of the world. But when Alfred had been discharged from the hospital and had had a miserable day without his beloved mobile, he lay down and proceeded to think.

Just how the hell did he wind up in this situation? He could remember the storm, and falling overboard, but nothing else...

He sighed switched on the TV, hoping it would help take his mind off it. Soon after, the country was quickly absorbed in a cheesy American superhero film. However, this was short lived.

The main protagonist (the hero) had seemingly just fallen off a high building (obviously he wasn't dead otherwise it wouldn't be an American hero) but even though he knew the story, there was something about the look on the heroine's face that struck some familiarity within him.

He was suddenly filled with fear, so much that he could hardly breathe because of it. He started panicking though he didn't know why. His stomach twisted into knots that pulled at his chest, and it hurt so much he thought he'd cry. He quickly shut off the TV but it was still there. He didn't understand what was happening to him.

It was like he knew that expression, he just didn't know where from. It left a horrid sense of unease and nausea settling in his stomach.

He must be going crazy.

...

Arthur was forced to lock pick his way into his house that night upon discovering that he'd lost his keys while being left at the ocean's mercy. He shamefully climbed over his back fence and got his picks out of the shed before unlocking the back door, silently praying that nobody saw him.

He didn't bother with tea that evening, just dragged himself upstairs and passed out as soon as he reached his bed.

When he awoke the next morning, he didn't remember much from his dream. Though he distinctly remembered a pair of sparkling blue eyes as bright as the sky.

England thought nothing of it as he began getting ready for his flight to Switzerland – the country where the next world meeting would be held. He showered and took care of his morning routine before packing his bag for the week. He was to leave early the next morning.

...

America pulled his suitcase almost stylishly along the Swiss sidewalk to his hotel, munching on a bar of chocolate. He may have been slightly jetlagged but the chocolate here in Switzerland sure was worth it.

The North American country yawned as he entered the hotel lobby and checked in. He frowned upon the realisation that there was no elevator but proceeded to make his way up the steps, suitcase in tow.

...

Arthur had to stop a quarter of the way up the staircase to put his bag down, what kind of hotel didn't have a lift in this day and age anyway? He lifted his bag once again and continued his journey up the very tall flight of stairs. That was until he heard an obnoxious chuckle come from behind him...

"You need some help there, dude? You look like you're struggling." Arthur briefly looked to the side of him to see a goofy looking blonde just a few inches taller than himself with a stupid, smart arsed grin plastered on his face. Looking down, he noticed that he was carrying a suitcase much bigger than his own – Arthur suddenly felt rather self conscious.

"No thank you, I can manage perfectly fine on my own." And with that, the Brit hurriedly continued on his way.

Alfred frowned and walked beside the guy who refused to make eye contact with him, he was only trying to help yet he got outright rejected. "You sure, dude? I don't mind."

Even while growing tired from the bag's weight, Arthur found himself unable to place this irritating man's accent. He wasn't Swiss, that's for sure, and he spoke English be it a strange variation of the language. The Brit had travelled the world yet he still found he didn't recognise it. "Quite fine, thank you."

Fine, if he was going to be like that, Alfred would show him what he was missing out on. With a smug look on his face, he hopped a few steps ahead of the annoying guy and walked backwards up the stairs, all while holding his suitcase high with one hand. He eyed his slim frame that seemed to lag downwards with the bag and smirked. "If you insist dude, but it'd make your life a whole lot easier if you stopped being so stubborn~"

This twat was mocking him! He felt his face erupt into a flurry of anger and embarrassment. "Wanker! Leave me be and-" Arthur soon found that he was the one smirking which soon morphed into a full on laugh. The stranger had tripped over the last of the steps and landed right on his behind. He was pleased to see the cherry red blush sprouting over the shocked young man's cheeks. "Heh, serves you right, lad. Maybe you should learn to act more mature in future."

The American huffed, "no fair dude! You-"

Bump... Bump bump...

Almost upon reflex, Arthur grabbed the handle of the rolling suitcase, stopping it for a moment. How bloody heavy was this thing?!

The moment he saw him start to fall, Alfred dived forward and, seeing he had his hands full, grabbed Arthur by the collar of the shirt without giving it a second thought. That was the moment the pair made eye contact.

They both froze.

Those eyes...

 **Lu here! Hope you're enjoying this so far and I apologise if it's ooc. Constructive criticism is welcomed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Lu here! Thank you so much to those who reviewed! Though I apologise deeply if this sounds rushed or out of character - Emma said it's okay though so I'm posting.**

Those eyes...

"Uhh..."

After a few stunned moments, the pair somewhat faded back into reality. However, Arthur was the one to notice the heavy luggage painfully dragging his arms backwards. Trying not to make a fool of himself, the Brit averted his gaze to his aching wrists and spoke with a hint of nervousness. "Ahah, would you mind grabbing your bag? I'd like to get to my hotel room..."

"Ah! Sorry!" Realising he was still holding him by his collar, Alfred quickly grabbed his suitcase and allowed the stranger to regain footing before releasing his death grip on his now creased shirt. "See, this is what happens when you don't install an elevator!" He exclaimed towards the stairs, loud enough for reception to hear from down the flight of stairs.

Arthur smirked, "tch, don't try and blame them for your own stupidity. You know you're supposed to walk forwards upstairs, right?"

The American huffed, "well if you would have just accepted my offer, none of this would have happened. Therefore this is entirely your fault."

...what? Damn this bloke was irritating, Arthur clenched his fists. "Git, you were the one who started getting cocky! This is nobody's fault but your own!" And with that, he stomped past the brat and towards his hotel room.

Turning sour, Alfred began to walk to his own room, which just happened to be across the hall from the same person who just made him sour. "Geez, no need to act like an old geezer."

Arthur stopped midway of opening the door, "Well maybe you should stop acting like a childish brat and take responsibility for your actions."

Oh no, Alfred was not having that. He paced over towards the shorter man who was pretty much backed up against the door. "Responsibility? Dude, how about you try to accept someone's kindness when they're trying to help you? It's like you're trying to prove a point by pushing people away when really you just look like a miserable old man."

Apparent old man did not appreciate having his personal space invaded, but he stepped forward in order to show that he would not be pushed around. He grit his teeth. "And who's that coming from, eh? I heard no thank you for saving your luggage, you self centred git."

Alfred scoffed light-heartedly. "And I heard no thank you for saving your ass but you don't hear me complaining. Seriously dude, you need to lighten the fuck up."

Arthur dropped his bag next to him and cracked his knuckles, an angered smirk apparent on his lips. "How about you shut up before I hit you?"

A genuine laugh found its way through the lips of the American, "Dude, you really think-" He was rudely interrupted by a fist connecting with his face, much harder than he expected. He needed a moment to comprehend that he'd actually just been hit by this guy.

"Hah, don't mess with me, lad. You're just a kid who-" BANG. Arthur felt himself being flattened in shock and a slight bit of fear against the wall behind him, the fist of the man he just punched in the jaw embedded into said wall and dangerously close to his head... He looked up at the man above him, who's face was too close to his own – he wore a dark expression and was breathing deeply. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins and damn, he revelled in it.

"Listen dude, I really don't like being talked to rudely, but being hit for trying to be nice is something I don't stand for. You don't know who I am so do me a favour and- goddamnit it hurts!" Alfred cradled the fist his just threw a punch with with his other hand while whining in pain. "Just don't do that again, dude! That freaking huuurts!"

A moment of utter confusion and Arthur burst out laughing. "You bloody idiot! How stupid can you be?"

Alfred only looked merely irritated by now, too focused on the pain. He huffed and gave Arthur one last look – he looked plain rejected and defeated. Arthur let out a snicker but also a laugh of sympathy before rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry, that was very ungentlemanly of me. I'm Arthur." He held out his left hand so Alfred didn't have to shake with his hurting one.

Alfred paused for a moment, slightly surprised by the change in atmosphere but happily accepted the handshake and the fact he wouldn't be making another enemy. "I'm Alfred."

...

After many attempts at trying to stop the fight, only to realise that he couldn't be seen, yet again. Canada pulled out his phone. Two days ago, he'd received a call from Francis that he was skeptical to believe. He had said that after discovering Arthur washed up on a beach, he didn't remember who or anything about who Alfred or America was. Then he didn't believe it, now he was majorly concerned. He quickly pressed call on France's contact.

"Ah, mon cherie, Matthieu! 'Ow nice of you to call the world's wonderful big brother! What do you 'ave to say to me today?" The Frenchman drawled on.

"Ah, Francis?" The Canadian bit his lip nervously.

"Oui, mon petit ange?" Francis leant over the edge of his dear cousin, Vash's balcony.

"...it's about England and America..." Matthew fidgeted where he stood, not sure how he was going to word this.

"Angleterre and Amérique?" admiring the view and the young nation's soft voice, 'big brother' took a long sip of his red wine.

"Oui..." He braced himself for the reaction to come, "I just watched them introduce themselves to each other at our hotel..."

Francis then spat out his wine, which landed right on the head of Switzerland, who happened to be passing below the balcony. "What?!"

 **I hope this is up to standards, thank you for reading (^•^)**


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